The months that followed must've been even tougher for Evelyn than Cody. He was never there, always at work, or a bar, or the park. Anywhere but home. He'd moved rooms, to get away from the bedroom he and his wife had shared many memories in for years.

Then one day, at work, something happened. One of the doctors that was supposed to treat a woman who'd just miscarried wasn't there. She sat in the VA lobby, tears in her eyes, in pain. Her heartache echoed in sobs through the halls, and her physical pain rattled the chairs all around them. That doctor never showed up. They never told her. Eventually, Cody had to take her just to give her some pain medicine. He wasn't qualified to do anything more. She left in disbelief, and heartbreak.

A week later, that doctor arrived back at work. When Cody had told that man about that patient, he just laughed. He said that it sucked for her, but he was on vacation. That she shouldn't have gotten knocked up by a soldier boy who'd leave her behind anyway. That she probably didn't need or want the kid anyway. That any family who had a miscarriage probably should've taken it as a sign that they weren't going to be good parents to that kid, and it would end up being a great thing for their wallet years down the road.

That doctor made Cody's blood boil. How could he say that? How could anybody say that? Didn't he understand how precious the life of an unborn child was? That was when he got an idea. One day, Cody got that doctor alone. It was one of the last times he ever went to a bar, actually. It was so carefully-calculated. Nobody would miss him. He had a round-trip booked for the next week. Sure he had a wife, but they were on the rocks as it was, as far as Cody could tell. Nobody would know until the deed was long-finished.

He'd thought out his whole plan. It wasn't nearly as refined or elaborate as it would be in years to come, but it was enough. In fact, Cody figured that law enforcement would never find that first body. He wasn't in the morgue like most of the others, no, that plan had come later when he figured out how good it made him feel to get rid of these people. This man had been buried in the woods, not long after he'd been killed.

Cody remembered it clearly. One never forgets their first murder. He'd gotten the doctor so drunk at the bar, that he couldn't even think straight. He'd swiped the man's phone off the counter when he went to the bathroom, and when he returned they left. He watched as the doctor piled into the passenger's seat, and Cody dropped the man's phone on the pavement. He crushed it with an audible stomp, and slipped it into the sewer drain only meters from the parking lot. Then he got in the vehicle, and drove.

He had in fact used anesthesia in that first kill, just as with all the others. The drunken man beside him would need it, after all. Evelyn had been at her aunt's all week, so he had the large house to himself. Nobody was walking a dog, going on a jog, or anything outdoors. The street was so quiet. It was tranquil, and empty.

He'd taken the man inside his house, locked the door behind him, and led him down into the basement. There, he had large containers labeled 'Isoflurane.' In other words, anesthesia for use of sedation.

As a recently-graduated anesthesiologist himself, he'd been gifted a certain amount of random tools from his old college class at some secret santa, or a graduation gift, or perhaps a birthday. Where he'd gotten them was pointless at best, he just knew that they were a gift.

He'd received a cot, nine liters of anesthesia, some tubes and syringes, essentially, everything he needed to help a patient. Or get rid of a doctor. The devil was in the details, a prick of a syringe here, a "Help he's going to kill me!" There, the basic workings in that kind of setting. Cody had simply put him to sleep, like the dog he was.

It being his first kill and all, the man had tried to fight back and actually landed some hits. There was bruising, and Cody had a purple eye for a while. He allowed his daughter to do his make-up for kicks and giggles for her, for an 'aw' from all the ladies at work, and for a coverup for himself. It flew by without a hitch.

That was eleven years ago. Throughout all this time, an enormous amount of things had transpired. His daughter was nearly full-grown now. He himself had over two dozen bodies notched into his belt.

This woman, Cosette, had been trapped in here for the entire time. It must have been maddening, never knowing when or if you'd ever escape this place. It was a wonderful place on the outside, and possibly for the first few days, but after the account with the guard, and the creepy nurses always etching their notes... he knew he'd want to get out of here sooner rather than later.

Yet, just like with Cosette, the clock would tick by. He'd never know if he was cleared to leave. He, too, would become a prisoner under the guise of smiles and sunshine. Maybe it would've been better to go to prison. To have been shanked by now and have it all be over with. Maybe that would've been the better option. Oh well. Too late now. He was stuck here. He'd be the one to live with the mistake of choosing to go to a hospital over a prison.

(Yeesh, so unreasonably reasonable and reasonably unreasonable. Find hope, peace, love, joy, rest, wonder, and love today, troops! Be blessed in your comings and goings.)